The Morning After
by vestige
Summary: Draco has something that Ginny can never have. Ginny POV. H/D slash.


Disclaimer: Harry/Draco/Ginny all belong to JKR and Warner. You can have all of the 5cents that's in my wallet now if you sue.  
Author note: Many thanks to sincere_viper, lvlysenbei, sigma_nunki, my lovely betas (: thank you soooo much. What would I do without you. ::wibbles:: 

The Morning After

Ginny wasn't clear when she took to sneaking around Hogwarts at night. Maybe it was just the thrill of nearly being caught; of breaking the rules that made her do it. Or perhaps it was because Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had done it many a time and Ginny, his ever-faithful fan, just wanted to follow in his footsteps.   
The latter was uncomfortably close to the truth and she cringed.   
'You pathetic fool.'  
Her thoughts, spoken aloud, echoed off the bare walls of the corridor and assailed her over and over again. A painful reminder. But a deserving one.  
As the echoes died, she heard a soft moan. Were her ears playing tricks on her? She held her breath, willing whomever it was to make a sound again. A thought crossed her mind: perhaps it was Filch, but she dismissed it quickly. Filch was simply not one to moan.   
Moanmoanmoan. She willed it to happen.  
Again.  
It came from an old, disused classroom somewhere further up the corridor. She proceeded cautiously. You never knew what might happen in dark, dusty rooms. The Chamber of Secrets incident sounded warning bells in her head. She ignored them.  
It was obvious which room it was. The door was slightly ajar. She knocked softly and called out, 'Hello? Is anyone there?' No reply. Plucking up her courage, she pushed it slightly and looked in.  
There was Harry Potter. And he was fucking Draco Malfoy.   
Worse still, he looked like he enjoyed it.   
A dark hatred of Draco Malfoy swept over Ginny. If she had disliked him earlier, she now hated him with all her heart and soul. Harry was hers. Hers!   
Maybe Harry was just in it for the sex.   
'I love you.'  
Softly whispered sweet words not meant for her ears. But she heard it all the same. Harry had never said that to her, never used that tone that spoke of dreams and hopes and a future together.  
Did she mention that she hated Draco Malfoy?  
She slammed the door shut and its startled occupants had a glimpse of red hair and splotchy eyes.  
It wasn't a good night for all three of them. 

***

Draco-fuckin-Malfoy approached her after dinner. His usual unruffled calm had deserted him. He looked nervous and kept glancing over his shoulder.  
'Er, Ginny, we have to talk.'  
She let herself be led from the Hall to a secluded corridor near the dungeons. If that was what it took to give him confidence, to be on home ground, then she would allow him that little privilege. It was akin to allowing a condemned man to say a few last words.  
'Ginny. I'm sorry.'  
She felt her iron resolve wavering. After all, even Slytherin princes were human. They could love…no. Draco could not love Harry. He was cold and calculating - he must have a hidden motive. Ginny was not about to let Harry be betrayed to Voldemort. And anyway, she had loved him first. Draco had ignored that claim on Harry's heart. Just like Vol-the Dark Lord had seen it, and used it. Her stomach roiled.   
Anger, unbidden, rose up like a fist and choked off her words.   
A look of concern. Just a mask playing with her emotions. No real feeling behind his words.  
'I just wanted to tell you that we love one another and that Harry doesn't like you the way you think he does…'  
IhateyouIhateyou.   
The red miasma clouds everything. Draco looks strangely disjointed and unreal.   
Silver eyes register the cold gleam of metal all too late. They widen in surprise and his perfect mouth forms an 'O.' White hands come up to shield himself but they are no match for a cool, hard blade and hot, burning hatred.  
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.  
She wipes the blood off the edge of her cloak and turns around into the disbelieving eyes of Harry Potter.  
'Ginny! How could you?!'  
And before she can think, her arm rises again and the blade finds its mark a second time. And a third. And a fourth.  
Until the fire of his eyes finally die out and there is nothing left but a husk, that she realises what she's done.  
The Boy-Who-Lived is now the Boy-Who-Died.  
For Draco.  
She pulls the cooling bodies together and wraps their arms around each together. So as they were entwined in life, so they are now in death.  
She closes Harry's lifeless, staring eyes and kisses him gently on the forehead, where his lightning-bolt scar is.   
She takes out her wand and breaks it into two, casting the broken pieces far down the corridor. They roll - out of her life, softly clattering, as she turns her back on the twisted tableau.   
And the last thing she thinks of as she throws herself from the tower is: maybe they'll think they were lovers in the morning. 


End file.
